


Your Hand on Mine

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Extra Treat, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Secret Relationship, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Rey and Kylo have a secret.





	Your Hand on Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/gifts).



It's happening again.

The bond is silent for days at a time, then out of nowhere, Rey feels another person inside her skin. Under the influence of Snoke, they could watch each other. She thought it would end with his death, not creep up on her at odd times, like a pale face staring into a darkened window. Ben's here, or more likely, the foul twin who consumed the better man Ben could have been.

Rey nods absently, excusing herself from where she's sitting with her friends. "Go away," she whispers the moment she's alone.

"What are you doing?"

"Planning on attacking you. We've arranged for seven hundred thousand ships to arrive at your position in five minutes."

She can't see him, not any longer, but she can sense him. Kylo can be goaded with this sort of ridiculous brag, but he's finally learned Rey does it on purpose. She feels him sigh in exasperation.

"I assume that means you're still docked at Sundari. We both know the Mand'alore won't supply any ships for the Resistance, no matter how much Mother tries to convince her otherwise. Are you planning on remaining in sanctuary there forever?"

Rey twitches, knowing her can feel her discomfort. She's never told him where they've taken their last little ship, this smuggler's joy now smuggling the laughably few remnants of the Resistance. He may have spies here, or informants willing to turn over a sighting of the _Falcon_ in exchange for money. The First Order won't dare a frontal assault against Mandalore, but they are only welcome here for as long as General Organa can stretch her claim upon the hospitality of an old friend.

Jakku has plenty of rules about hospitality. You must share water with anyone who asks. You must allow passing wanderers to sleep in your hut if they need the shelter, even if you spend the night awake with your weapon comfortably in your own hands. You may cast your guests aside for the desert to take them after a day. Rey survived on the edges of hospitality as a child, although she has learned since that surviving isn't the same as living.

"We're on Coruscant," she lies. "All the consortiums and guilds are with us. Three minutes."

"You're either on Coruscant or you're three minutes away from attacking us, or you're still on Mandalore. Are you finished playing your game now?"

"What do you want, Ben?" She feels a prick of regret as she uses his old name, part in taunt, part in fading hope of reaching through to him. She isn't sure which one of them feels more sorrow.

She doesn't have to ask. She already knows why he slips into her mind. Worse, it's the same reason she edges into his from time to time.

"If you're busy getting ready for a futile attack against the First Order fleet, I can go." It's odd how he always distances himself from the First Order. He doesn't say "our" fleet. He never says "my" fleet. Kylo is the figurehead leader of the dominant military force in this part of the galaxy. Rey has heard stories of the decadences entertained by similar leaders over the centuries, from dining upon the rarest flesh to the most indulgent sexual hedonism. Kylo could order a series of pretty or handsome faces be sent to his throne room for his use, and none could gainsay his requests.

Instead, he touches Rey's mind. Sometimes she reaches out and touches his first.

The Resistance, small as it is, temporarily occupies one habitation wing of this palace. The ship is docked on the palace grounds, and covered as it was back on Jakku, like some piece of old flotsam no one cares about. Rey's feet make her way out to where the _Falcon_ sits, passing the guards as she does every day to go work on the ship. Chewbacca sleeps in his cabin rather than the palace. General Organa no longer occupies the other one. Rey lets herself inside, closing the door quickly.

"Sorry," Kylo says in her mind. "I understand you're busy with an attack."

Rey doesn't reply. Instead her hand reaches into her top and tweaks one of her breasts, then the other. The shiver that goes through her is part her own, part his.

He wants to taunt her. Not only can she listen to what he says to her, she can feel the words he doesn't intend for her to hear at all. He wants to mock Rey as a slattern, too eager for their interludes and led by her own vulgar desire for him. The deeper part of his mind knows she could fling the words back in his face with her sure knowledge that his hand is already squeezing the dark leather bulging at his crotch, relieving the pressure as he readjusts to the swell she causes by the flick of one sure fingernail against her own nipple.

There are words for this, and most of those words are wrapped up in madness. Kylo leads the First Order. Rey is the closest thing the Resistance has to a Jedi. They've tried to kill each other. But they've also killed for each other, and each is also the closest thing the other has ever found to an equal. They're bound with magic neither understands, in a knot of anger and resentment and another emotion neither will ever say out loud. The closest they come to admitting the rest is what they do together this way, him hiding in his own rooms away from his underlings, her hiding from her friends in fear of discovery. Kylo can muse about calling her a whore, and Rey will take her vengeance out on him in delicately-administered pain. If Finn ever said the same to her, she's not sure her heart could survive that blow.

"Thinking about him again?" He shifts his hand, undoing his trousers, she senses. He knew what he wanted when he reached out to her, and it isn't as if she doesn't want the same thing. She can feel the smooth length of him in his own hand, feel how good it is to touch himself.

She indulges only one last moment of hesitation before unbuckling her belt and tugging her own trousers down past her knees. This will be easier on the bunk, and she sits, kicking off her boots as she feels Kylo stroking himself.

"Has he seen you like this?" Kylo prods, and her mind fills with a flash of Finn's face, angry in the snow as they faced Kylo so many weeks ago. "Does he like you with your knees spread?"

Rey's hands know her body well. She was alone for a long time. A single lick to her thumb and forefinger, then she reaches between her own legs, the left spreading herself open, and the right angling in to where she's aching and ready. Kylo shudders as she strokes her fingertip against her clit, the enjoyable sparks inside her shooting into him.

"Do you want me to tell you yes?" she asks, giving in. "Do you want to think about his mouth on me like this?" Rey circles her clit with her finger. She hasn't done any of this with Finn. That doesn't mean she and Kylo can't pretend they both are. She feels the tight squeeze of his hand as he pictures Finn bent between Rey's legs and Kylo behind him, sliding into the hot clench of Finn's body with a moan.

Her fantasy lingers while she feels his mind drift. Her fingers stroke at herself faster in place of eager lips and tongue, not concerned with whose mouth she's using. Kylo's brain rotates through images of bodies he pretends he's fucking. He always lands back on her, the thrills of his pleasure deepening as he speeds his stroke, imagining he's driving into her welcoming wet warmth.

"You want this," his hiss whispers in her ear. "You want it as much as I do."

There's a whimper caught in her throat. "You want it more," she thinks back, and they both know it's a lie. She needs this, needs what they do to each other. Rey can tell herself this is about a chance to turn him, a means to reach through to Ben, a spark of hope for the galaxy. She knows that's a lie, too.

She's close. He's closer. If she pulls back now and clamps down on the link, it'll spoil the end for him, deny him the moment of his pleasure. She's done that to him before. She reminds him now. "I shouldn't let you come," Rey tells him. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve to touch me even in your mind."

That's enough. She can't hear him. She never really hears him. What passes between them isn't sound, but the meaning of words. There is no way for her to know what Kylo sounds like when he shouts out in his sudden climax. She only knows her name is in his mouth, and she knows how sticky his hand feels, and she knows the shimmer of light flooding him, which floods into her and draws out a groan she barely hides. Rey comes and comes again with the press of her own fingers, comes thinking about Ben being here with her instead of far away, comes picturing him loving her on this old bunk that has surely seen lovers locked in embrace, comes wishing everything was different.

The guilt settles in while her heart is still hammering in her chest and as she becomes aware of her own sweat dampening the sheets. She shouldn't do this. She should shut her mind to him. Kylo Ren is her enemy, not her imaginary lover. Rey hates the part of her that gave in again.

He doesn't have to say that's how he feels most of the time. She's spent enough time reading his mind to know.

"I'll find you as soon as you leave Mandalore. It would be easier if you came to me. Your friends are too few to bother with now. I'd let them go wherever they wished."

"You wouldn't. I know you wouldn't." They will never stop fighting to the very last soul. The only way for this to end is for Kylo to surrender his arms, and for Ben to return to her side. "Come join us."

He's gone from her mind like a bad dream melting away as she blinks in the low light of the cabin, resting in a bunk that's hers now. The next time he touches her mind, she'll push him away. The next time she wants him, she'll ignore the temptation.

Except....

Except as his mind leaves hers every time, there's a flicker. There's always a moment where he wants to take a ship and fly from the dark cage he's constructed around himself, fly to Rey's side and be free. It's stronger every time they do this, every time their heartbeats align and their bond ties them together.

And she knows the next time he calls to her, no matter where she is, she'll answer.


End file.
